


Rules of Engagement

by DamascusDreamer (orphan_account)



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Drama, Friendship, Gen, Pre-Apocalypse, bookverse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 13:34:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16430375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/DamascusDreamer
Summary: Five times Aziraphale bent the rules of Heaven, and one time Aziraphale completely shattered all rules of divine intervention.  As told from the POV of a certain demon.  Bookverse and pre-Apocalypse.





	Rules of Engagement

**Author's Note:**

> OK folks, before we go any further I should clarify one thing. I don’t ship Crowley/Aziraphale (at least not romantically) so I interpret their banter in the novel differently than others that do ship them. I’m not saying either view is right or wrong, just that I have a different interpretation to how they interact with each other. So if my versions of Crowley and Aziraphale seem a bit different it’s only because I’m going based off of my own views of the novel, rather than nearly 30 years of established fandom. And such a wonderful fandom it is! 
> 
> Warning: This chapter mentions the Hillsborough disaster of 1989; if you’re too young to know what that is you may want to read up on it. If this is a sensitive topic for anyone please proceed with caution.

_'Crowley!’_

The scream exploded in my mind like a gunshot, causing me to drop my wineglass as I reeled back against the expensive leather of my sofa. The glass shattered, splashing blood-red drops against the white leather but I didn’t notice.

It’s hard to describe what it sounds like when an angel screams – I can only tell you that it’s a sound that would make humans, if they could hear it, weep. For demons it has the opposite effect – it’s like planting a sacrificial lamb in front of a pack of raving, half-starved dogs and shouting, “COME AND GET IT”.

Aziraphale had never screamed for my help – not like this – calling for me across time and space. It’s not like telepathy – Aziraphale wasn’t literally shouting inside my head but I knew just the same that he was in danger and needed help. And, stupid angel that he was, he had called out to me.

I snarled and stood even though there was nothing to snarl at. Well, except perhaps a certain Duke of Hell who wouldn’t _bloody shut up._

“CROWLEY, DID YOU HEAR ME?” Hastur’s gravelly voiced grated through the telly. YOU’RE LATE ON YOUR MONTHLY TIMESHEET AGAIN. AND WHAT ABOUT LAST MONTH’S QUOTA OF GRAVE SINS? YOU MISSED YOUR MARK –”

I waved my hand, switching off the telly that had been taken over by my monthly check-in with Downstairs. I’d deal with Hastur later.

 _‘Aziraphale’,_ I called out across the distance. _‘Where are you? What’s going on?’_

Images suddenly flashed in through my mind – of hundreds, no – thousands of bodies pressed against fences…of policemen shouting…people screaming desperately as they were slowly crushed to death…a familiar face caught in the middle of it all.

I didn’t need to see anything else – I knew what was happening.

“Fuck!”

I swore violently and was out the door and down the stairs in moments. My Bentley careened around the corner, slowing down just enough for me to leap into the car. I floored the engine and was out of the city within moments as I turned north towards Sheffield.

* * *

  
I’ve seen a lot of nasty, horrible things during my time on Earth. Some might say that what I saw on that stadium field today wasn’t as bad as some things I had witnessed, but they’d be wrong. Those other times were different – the world was different back then and violence was a fact of life, not hidden behind modern technology and a supposedly more civilised society.

But seeing all those bodies laid out on the field, the victims of a disaster that humans had caused through their own ignorance…I would put this on my Top Ten list of How-Humans-Can-Be-More-Evil-Than-Anything-Heaven-or-Hell-Could-Think-Up.

I couldn’t help but feel disgusted as I watched the chaos unfold around me. The stadium reeked of human sweat, blood, tears and vomit and I had to struggle to filter out the screams. It had been several decades since I had been caught in the middle of something like this. Violence was something us demons were naturally drawn to and it was a bit unnerving to see my vision go red for a minute.

“Get out of the way!” A paramedic shouted as he pushed past me, snapping me out of my daze.

I shook my head and gritted my teeth, suddenly furious. I already knew what had caused this disaster from the angel’s thoughts in my head. I didn’t know what Aziraphale had been doing in Sheffield of all places but as soon as I found the angel he was going to have Hell to pay, literally.

“Aziraphale!” I bellowed, ignoring the people rushing past me, but it was pointless. Aziraphale wasn’t here – I could sense that much.

“Jack!”

Someone suddenly grabbed my arm and I turned, ready to shake the idiotic human off, when I realised it was a woman. She peered up at me with a tear-streaked face, blinking in surprise.

“I-I’m sorry,” she stammered, slowly releasing my arm. “I thought you were…” her mouth trembled and she trailed off, burying her face in her hands.

I really can’t stand it when mortals cry. It’s annoying.

“Try over there – he’s going to be fine,” I said, pointing towards the far end of the field.

The woman stared at me in confusion. I sighed impatiently and gently but firmly turned her around in the correct direction and gave her a slight nudge forward.

After the woman had gone I turned back around, still hoping to catch a glimpse of Aziraphale.

Two paramedics suddenly rushed past me with a makeshift stretcher, carrying the body of a man with wavy blonde hair. For just an instant I felt a rush of icy coldness but I quickly realised the man wasn’t Aziraphale even though he bore a slight resemblance to the angel.

You may be wondering why I, a demon, would be so concerned about an angel. How sweet, you must be thinking. The evil demon is worried about his friend.

Well, you’d be wrong. I knew Aziraphale was capable of taking care of himself (he had discorporated me enough times over the centuries, but hey, who’s counting these days?) but his sense of self-preservation was non-existent.

If Aziraphale had been idiotic enough to get caught up in this debacle and get his mortal form destroyed then it could be years, decades even, before he was sent back to Earth.

That would mean no more arguments over moral theology, no more late-night binge drinking, no more easy target for April Fools’ pranks, and no more inside information on heavenly designs on Earth.

Not that Aziraphale had ever betrayed his side, mind you – we just kept each other in balance.

If Aziraphale was gone then so was my oh-so-good track record with my earthly assignment. Downstairs hadn’t caught on yet but I knew certain demons like Hastur had been growing more suspicious about my success rate over the centuries. I really, really did not want to start having a losing streak now and explain that to the Powers Down Below.

After nearly two hours of searching the field and Leppings Lane I decided to start looking elsewhere. Besides, the place was now crawling with press as well as the police. The last thing I wanted to do was draw any unwanted attention to myself.

I overheard a paramedic mentioning the name of the hospital they were taking victims and followed them towards an ambulance, glad to leave the nightmarish scene behind me.

* * *

“Sir, you can’t go in there – it’s for family members only – _oi!_ Now see ‘ere!”

“Step aside, human,” I snarled, letting a sliver of my demonic aura emerge. The policeman guarding the door to the hospital wing gulped and wordlessly stepped back. I easily shoved my way through the crowds of desperate people, not caring if my demonic strength pushed anyone into a wall. Right now I just wanted to find a certain angel and wring his scrawny neck.

This was the third hospital I had visited and my patience was quickly reaching its breaking point. My skull was pounding from the constant onslaught of fear and anger and I honestly didn’t know how much more of this I could take.

I threw open the door to the packed hospital waiting room, nearly ripping it off its hinges as I immediately scanned the crowds of frantic, desperate people. The wave of human emotions – anger, fear, despair, horror, grief – all of it made my darker nature stir. I had to take a step back and sort myself out before scanning the crowds.

There!

I finally spotted a familiar head of curling blonde hair with an atrocious sweater at the same time the familiar angelic aura brushed against my skin.

The angel was kneeling next to a young boy who looked to be about eighteen. The boy was laying on a piece of board that had been turned into a stretcher and I could tell that he wasn’t long for this world.

I watched as Aziraphale patted the boy’s hand. He said something to the boy that made the human smile but I don’t know what. The boy was fading fast, and then suddenly he shook once and then he was gone.

The boy’s soul, visible to only myself and Aziraphale, slipped like quicksilver from the now still body. It shimmered in the air as it floated upwards, gleaming like liquid light, before fading completely.

Well, at least that one was definitely going to Heaven.

Aziraphale must have sensed my presence, because he suddenly stiffened and turned. The angel didn’t look hurt – he was standing at least – but his clothes were torn and filthy and there were scrapes and bruises littered across his face. His eyes widened when he saw me.

The image of Aziraphale being crushed against the gates burst into my mind again and I pushed my way through the crowds. I finally made my way through and stalked over to Aziraphale, knowing he could see my furious gaze even with my shades.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said, his voice shaking slightly. “What are you doing here?”

“You stupid, ssstupid fool!” I hissed as I took hold of Aziraphale’ arm and hauled him upright. I began to pull him towards the exit, ignoring his startled yelp at the man (or rather, angel) handling.

“Crowley, I have to help – I can’t leave just yet…”

“Shut up,” I snapped, not stopping as I sent a few more policemen a glare, daring them to try to stop me.

“Crowley, stop! Please!”

Finally an exit! There was a fire door that led to the street and suddenly we were out in the cold, brisk spring air. I instantly felt more composed now that I was out of that room, but only just. I saw another group of policemen and what looked like reporters coming towards us and quickly turned into an alley.

Aziraphale winced as I shoved him none-too-gently against the wall but I could care less. Right now it was taking all of my willpower not to smash the idiot’s head into a pulp for his absolute idiocy.

“What in the name of Go-Whoever-were you doing in that place?” I demanded, keeping a tight hold of the angel’s shirt collar. I didn’t trust the fool not to rush back towards the hospital as soon as I let him go.

“Crowley, let me go!”

Normally it’s me who is on the receiving end of angelic righteous fury, but this time…this time it was the angel who was currently experiencing a good dose of demonic wrath. And judging by the looks Aziraphale was shooting me I was doing a da-blessed fine job of it.

“Really, Crowley…” Aziraphale tried again but I was bloody well done with this day. I wanted answers, and I wanted them now.

I hauled the angel close until our noses were practically touching.

“Don’t. Start. With. Me.” I bit out.

Aziraphale abruptly shut his mouth, his blue-grey eyes wide.

“I’m only going to ask you once more, angel – what were you doing there?”

“I was visiting Sheffield looking for a rare edition – C.S. Lewis,” began Aziraphale in a slightly breathless voice. I could feel the angel trembling in my grip but kept a tight hold.

“I saw all the people going to the stadium and wanted to see part of the game…and then the police opened those gates…people started rushing in…it all happened so fast Crowley.”

Aziraphale stopped and hung his head, his hands hanging limply at his sides. “I tried to help but before I knew what was happening I was caught in a corner against a fence. Someone pulled me out – I don’t know who…I have to find out…I have to go back…”

Aziraphale was shaking hard now and I was pretty certain he was going into shock. And not the kind that affects humans – this is the kind of shock that caused by a being of perfect virtue witnessing something dark and ugly.

I was about to make a cutting remark about the angel’s stupidity but stopped when I saw the shattered expression on Aziraphale’s face.

The angel is made of sterner stuff than most people know, but right now he looked about as fragile as spun glass.

“Come on then,” I said after a long moment, stepping back and adjusting my suit jacket. “I brought my car. Let’s get out of here. There’s nothing else you can do here,” I added when Aziraphale hesitated.

The angel nodded and followed me out of the alley, as silent as the grave. The thought made me shudder.

* * *

I shoved Aziraphale unceremoniously into my large bathroom. It was nearly three in the morning and Aziraphale looked like he was about to collapse.

“You’re not sitting on my furniture until you’ve cleaned yourself up. And those clothes have been burned,” I added.

Before Aziraphale could respond I slammed the door shut. Not only was I unwilling to keep seeing that shell-shocked expression on the angel’s face, but I also didn’t want him overhearing my next conversation.

Once I heard the shower running I went back into the living room. I was about to turn on the telly but before I could it switched itself back on.

“CROWLEY,” said the evening news anchor, “WE’VE HEARD ABOUT WHAT’S GOING ON UP THERE AND WE COULDN’T BE MORE PLEASED.”

“Glad to know,” I muttered, pouring myself a glass of scotch and resigning myself to five minutes of Hell.

“IT’S ABSOLUTELY MARVELOUS – THE MANAGEMENT HAS DECLARED AN OFFICE HOLIDAY FOR TOMORROW. TAKE SOME WELL-DESERVED TIME OFF.”

“Thanks, I’ll do that,” I said, gulping down the last of the scotch.

“AND CROWLEY?”

“Yes?”

“TURN IN YOUR BLOODY TIMESHEETS.”

The telly switched off before I could respond, and at the same time heard the bathroom door open.

I sighed and closed my eyes. “How much of that did you hear?”

“Enough,” said Aziraphale from behind the sofa. I turned to look at the angel, raising an eyebrow.

Aziraphale had somehow managed to find a pair of long flannel pajamas and a matching robe as well. I curled my lip as I went to refill my Scotch glass.

“Where the hell did you find that hideous robe? Not from my closet, I hope.”

“What, this?” Aziraphale blinked and looked down at himself, brow furrowed. “Oh, I just…willed it to appear, I suppose.”

“Huh,” I said, not bothering to argue further. I poured a second glass for the angel and handed it to him, suddenly feeling guilty even though I had no reason to be. “Aziraphale, just now…”

“I know Hell wasn’t behind this one,” said Aziraphale, flapping a pale hand at me as he came to sit down next to me on the sofa.

He had his arms wrapped around himself, a human habit I had seen the angel subconsciously adopt over the years.

“It was just sheer human ignorance at its finest,” continued the angel, staring off into the distance.

There really wasn’t anything else to say. We had both seen humans do monstrous, terrible things to each other before – today shouldn’t be affecting the angel like this but for some reason it was.

We sat there for a long time, finishing our Scotch and not speaking. When you’ve been around as long as we have, words sometimes just aren’t needed.

“You should get some rest,” I said when I heard the clock chime four in the morning. “Sleep here if you like, but don’t expect me to wake you tomorrow.”

“I can’t sleep, Crowley,” said Aziraphale, still staring at something only he could see.

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, I known – ‘virtue is ever vigilant’ and all that. You’ve said that at least a thousand times.”

“No, I mean I _can’t_ sleep, Crowley,” said Aziraphale, finally looking up at me. The firelight cast flickering shadows across his face, catching on his wide, deep eyes and making Aziraphale look much younger than he ever had been.

“Can’t?” I repeated, puzzled.

“I hear them all the time, Crowley. Sometimes it’s not so bad, but it never stops.”

“What are you dithering about? Who is ‘them’?”

“People,” said Aziraphale, rubbing at his face. “I hear them all the time…their prayers, their calls for help…it never stops.”

I stared at the angel, stunned. I had never heard of something like this before.

“Is it just you, or all angels?” I asked, curious despite the fact that the angel was barely able to sit upright at this point.

“No, only those in the Third Choir. It’s because we’re closest to humans…the higher orders of angels are too removed from humanity to hear anything.”

“So you just got lucky then?” I said, raising an eyebrow.

Aziraphale gave a humourless laugh. “Yes, I suppose. Most days I can ignore it, but after something like today….”

I sighed and sat down on the edge of the sofa. Aziraphale rolled a bit, bumping against me, but he didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, didn’t care.

“What am I going to do with you, angel?”

Aziraphale gave me a small, world-weary smile. “There’s nothing to be done, m’dear. This is the way of things.”

“Yeah, the ‘way of things’ – that’s a good explanation for those idiotic humans. Downstairs is delighted, of course.”

“And you?” asked Aziraphale, turning to face me. “I know you didn’t have anything to do with…with that disaster earlier, but I can tell you’re upset.”

I shrugged. “I’m not human Aziraphale – I’m a demon – I may like humans better than most demons but I’m not going to rush in and save them from their own stupidity. If they want to keep killing each other off it’s no scales off my back.”

“But you’re still angry about something,” the angel pressed. I frowned but Aziraphale just kept looking at me expectantly.

I sighed and reached forward, fingering a strand of dark blonde hair that lay against the angel’s brow. Aziraphale blinked in surprise but didn’t seem to mind as I toyed with the strands, oddly fascinated by the way the dim light caught the golden tones in Aziraphale’s hair.

“Maybe I am angry,” I mused, still running my fingers along Aziraphale’s hair. “These humans have such potential, and just when I think they’ve finally gotten it right, they go and do something so stupid that makes me wonder why they even got a second chance in the first place.”

“Second chance?”

“You know – the Garden…His Divine Plan and redemption – all of that. They keep messing up and He just keeps giving them more and more chances. I never got that.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale breathed softly, his eyes going impossibly wide. I suddenly realised what I had said and stood up, quickly retreating to the far edge of the room.

“You know what I meant,” I said as I heard Aziraphale approach on soft steps. Cool, remain cool, I told myself. It was just a little slip-up.

“I wish I could change that for you,” said Aziraphale in probably the gentlest tone I had ever heard from him.

I laughed harshly. “There’s nothing you can do, angel. I’m a lost cause – just like all other demons. We got one shot at everlasting grace and we blew it, big time.”

“I mean it, Crowley,” continued Aziraphale in that same calm voice that never failed to both soothe and annoy me. Maybe it was a specific angelic talent, or maybe it was just Aziraphale being himself.

“I would do anything for you, even…”

 _“Don’t,”_ I said, whirling back around with a snarl. “Don’t waste your empty platitudes on me, angel. I don’t want your pity.”

“It’s not pity,” insisted Aziraphale. He took a few more steps forward and I had the sudden urge to either get out of the room or shake the angel – this was getting dangerously close to one of the Three-Things-Not-To-Be-Discussed per our Arrangement. The Fall was one of them.

Too bad Aziraphale didn’t seem to notice. “Crowley, I’ve seen glimpses, deep down…I don’t pretend to understand what it’s like to be…well, in your position. But you’re better than quite a few humans I’ve met. And I’ve met quite a few,” he added with a faint smile.

Right, this was enough. I needed to remind this blessed angel of our respective places and our true natures, specifically mine.

“Tread carefully, Aziraphale,” I warned, getting right into the angel’s face just as I had done earlier in the alley. Aziraphale didn’t back down even if he did have to twist his head up a bit to look at me (I had a good ten centimeters in the height arena, one thing I did like about my human form).

“Do you really know what I’m capable of, _angel?”_ I growled, my voice dropping as I let my demonic aura flare.

“Yes, I think I do,” said Aziraphale, who hadn’t flinched.

“Then enlighten me, since you’re so bloody clever.”

“I know you’re so angry right now that you probably want to tear those people who caused the…crush…apart, but you won’t.”

“And why issss that?” I hissed.

“Because I’m asking you not to. And you are a demon of your word,” he added with a sad smile.

And just like that I felt my anger vanish. I was about to say something but suddenly Aziraphale yawned and swayed.

 _‘Blessed angel’,_ I thought as I gently shoved Aziraphale back towards my sofa. _‘Why did you have to be so different from all the rest? Why do you have to care so much? You’ll only get hurt in the end.’_

Because that’s how it was going to end. At some point Aziraphale and I would be at the ultimate crossroads. Sometimes I felt that there was a ticking clock of doom hanging over our heads, with the final hour being the end of…something that was...comfortable.

“Crowley, don’t think on it.” Aziraphale’s soft voice broke into my thoughts again. It was starting to become a bit unnerving.

“How do you know what I’m thinking? You can’t read my actual thoughts – our powers don’t work like that.”

“No, but I know you, dear. And whatever it is you’re thinking of, please stop.”

“Only if you agree to stop talking and at least try to get some rest.”

Aziraphale nodded reluctantly and then blinked in surprise when I suddenly willed a soft blanket to land on his head with a soft ‘plop’.

“M’that’s nice, thank you, Crowley,” the angel said around a yawn.

“You’re welcome,” I said with a weary sigh, flopping down in a chair next to the sofa and resting my fee on the table.

“Crowley?”

“What?”

“Do you ever wonder…?”

“No, angel, I don’t wonder, or dream, or hope,” I said, suddenly feeling incredibly old even though I was immortal had existed before time itself came into being.

“And I’ve reached my limit for soul-bearing questions tonight,” I added, trying to sound annoyed but only managing to sound exhausted. “Now go to sleep.”

“G’night, Crowley,” the angel mumbled and soon he was sleeping deeply, much to my surprise. I considered poking the angel just for the fun of it but decided against it.

Instead I turned on the telly with a snap of my fingers, determined to find out more about this debacle so Aziraphale wouldn’t be forced to watch any news reports.

* * *

“They’re blaming the Liverpool fans, Crowley. It’s horrible – it says here that they were drunk – that some were robbing bodies, but I was there. I saw it all. It’s not true, none of it!”

The angel’s voice had been gradually growing higher as he spoke, causing a couple of people in the pub where we were sat to cast us nervous glances.

I shot Aziraphale a glare as I tugged the newspaper he had been reading from under his tightly-curled fingers. A quick scan of the contents confirmed Aziraphale’s words.

I sighed wearily and tossed the paper aside (a few humans shot me scandalised glares but I ignored them).

“What did you expect, angel? For the police to admit that they caused the deaths of nearly a hundred people? Even you aren’t that naïve.”

“No, you’re right,” said Aziraphale, his hollow tone making me frown. Right then, I was getting tired of this mood. Time to play dirty.

“So what are you going to do about it?”

“Me?”

“Yes, you, O Principality of Great Britain,” I said sarcastically, deliberately using his official title.

“Are you going to sit there and continue feeling sorry for yourself, or are you going to get up off your arse and do your angelic duty?”

“You’re out of line, Crowley,” said Aziraphale in a low voice, his eye flashing with a familiar fire.

 _‘That’s right angel, get angry,’_ I thought, inwardly relieved at finally getting some sort of reaction. Righteous anger was far better than this disturbing listlessness I had been seeing for the last few days.

Aziraphale hadn’t brought up our late night “heart-to-heart” again, much to my immense relief. He had been too preoccupied with reading every newspaper, tabloid, and interview, and watching every news briefing, on what was now being called the “Hillsborough Disaster.”

“And you’re forgetting what your job is – giving these mortals hope,” I shot back. “So I’ll ask you again, what are you going to do about this?”

Seeing Aziraphale’s startled expression I pressed on. Appealing to the angel’s sense of duty and incredible ease for blaming himself for the world’s problems (not your fault, angel – you’re the only one who cared enough in the Beginning to care enough if the first humans made it) was perhaps a dirty blow, but hey – I’m a demon. What’d you expect?

“I…”

“Are you going to let these bastards,” I said, pointing towards the discarded paper, “get away with these lies?”

“No,” said Aziraphale suddenly in a steely tone. Oh boy, I thought, it’s showtime now! “No, I’m not.”

Aziraphale stood suddenly and grabbed his coat.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“To talk to some people. Care to tag along?”

“If it means watching you unleash angelic righteous fury on those paparazzi, then yeah, I’m game,” I said with a grin.

“Thank you, Crowley,” said the angel, I knew he wasn’t thanking me just for paying the tab.

I shrugged and pulled on my own jacket as I followed the angel out the door. He was heading towards Fleet Street and I just knew this was going to be good.

“Any time, angel,” I said, sticking my hands in my pockets. “Any time.”

**Author's Note:**

> Rule 1 - Maintain Emotional Distance. I always thought it was interesting that Aziraphale cared enough to give away his flaming sword to Adam and Eve; it shows that really cares about people, and not just in an abstract, divine way. After living on Earth for so long I can't imagine Aziraphale not caring about people as individuals, which makes him more willing to bend the rules and be willing to stop Armageddon in the novel.


End file.
